


Imperfections

by glorious_clio



Category: Bridgerton (TV)
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Periods, Smut, even when you're trying you don't get pregnant right away and that's ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28569927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_clio/pseuds/glorious_clio
Summary: Nature keeps time, and Simon and Daphne keep each other.Or: Simon is a generous lover and Daphne looks to return his favors.
Relationships: Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Basset
Comments: 20
Kudos: 471





	Imperfections

**Author's Note:**

> If you live in Georgia, you can't read this until you vote. I'm sorry, that's just how democracy works! Do it for fellow (legitimate) Romance writer, Stacey Abrams. 
> 
> Also we don't have a clear interpretation about how menstruating folks dealt with their period, but the apron I've described is one plausible interpretation that has some evidence. 
> 
> Finally, this work is unbeta'd.

Apparently, she has been married two months now. Daphne Basset, the Duchess of Hastings lost track of the time after their ball, but Mother Nature was marking time for her.

She bit her lip as she arranged one of her linen menstrual aprons, tied on backwards and the cloth passed through her legs and up over the apron string. The rest of her dressing was routine: shift, stockings and garters, short stays that Rose came in to tie for her. A petticoat, and her day dress and fichu. 

“I shall visit Bridgerton House today,” she told Rose as they dressed her hair. “Is the Duke in his study?” 

They were still in London, but making arrangements to leave for Clyvedon early the next day, to avoid the sticky heat and general miasma of summer in Town.

“I believe so, your Grace. And breakfast will be served shortly.” 

“Thank you, Rose. We shall be there presently. I shall fetch my husband.”

“Very good, your Grace.” 

The housemaids came in, to clear away last night’s cinders, collect laundry, make the bed. Leaving them to their work, Daphne indeed found Simon in his study. He was wrapping as much business up as he could before they left for the country house. 

“Good morning, my love,” Daphne smiled at him from the door. “Breakfast with me?” 

“Of course, one moment.” He quickly blotted the letter he was writing, melted some wax and sealed the letter, adding it to a stack in the corner of his desk. 

He strode across the room and planted a kiss on her lips. “Good morning to you, too. I apologize for rising so early today.”

She smiled at him, but he read her too well now. 

“Is something the matter?”

“Oh, I. Well. My courses begin today.” 

A flurry of expressions warred across his face. Daphne could not interpret what he was thinking, feeling. She resolved to ask him later. 

He began, “I am sorry—”

She cut him off. “I know. I am to visit my mother this afternoon, should you wish to join me. We leave so early tomorrow that it will have to serve as our goodbye.”

“I’m sure she will be a source of comfort to you today,” Simon said. “We will have to send for your family to come and visit us soon.”

She wrapped her arms around him. “Perhaps not too soon.” 

He laughed, took her hand and kissed it. “I leave that to your discretion. Shall we go into the morning room?”

In the end, Simon was not able to come with her to Bridgerton House, and it was almost a relief to be with her Mama, her sisters. Daphne did not mention her disappointment to them. And her family had no expectations for her to become with child. Instead, Eloise needled her and Francesca while they played the pianoforte, Hyacinth played with a doll and asked her eldest sister about Clyvedon’s horses. 

“I am afraid I am not an expert on that topic, but I shall write to you as soon as I acquaint myself.” 

“Or I can come see for myself!”

“Hyacinth,” Violet reproved. “A good guest does not invite herself to other people’s homes, even their sister’s.”

“Yes, Mama. Sorry, sister.”

“There is nothing to forgive. I am sure an invitation will find its way here soon. Simon and I were speaking of it only this morning.” 

Violet smiled benevolently. “I shall be glad to accept that invitation.” 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


She did not stay late at her mother’s house. She wanted to help Rose pack her trunk, and then dinner was late and she and Simon went to bed. 

He reached for her, but she shook her head gently. They were barely on speaking terms the last time her courses visited, so truly, this was the first time she had to deny the kind of intimacy that had become nightly for them. 

“Very well.” He smiled, to show he was not offended. 

“It is not as if this time is pleasant for me,” Daphne said carefully. “It can be uncomfortable at times, and it is of course a mess.” Her menstrual apron was hidden beneath her nightgown, the blankets. She had taken care that he should not see it. It was not beautiful, it was not meant to be beautiful. 

“Tell me what it is like?” 

Daphne felt her features settle into bemusement. “You... you do not know?”

“I cannot know everything! There are still mysteries in this world, Daphne.”

She rolled over fitting her back to his chest. She pulled his left arm over her hip and settled his hand on her belly. “First things first, this is all I want. A small bit of pressure here can help, and your hand is lovely and warm. It feels like... a bruise. A very large bruise inside.” 

“Hmmmmm. That does not sound comfortable.” 

“It tapers off as the days go by. And I wear an apron.”

“An apron?”

“Eloise calls it girding our loins.” 

He laughed, his breath tickling the back of her neck. “If I had sisters, would I know this?”

“I very much doubt it. This was one of the few conversations Mama had with us. My brothers were not in attendance.”

“Fair enough,” he allowed. 

She rolled to her back again, turning her head to face him, tears coming to her eyes. “And you know what it means, for me to have them.”

He kissed her eyes and wrapped her in his arms more tightly, still pressing one hand on her stomach like she showed him. She wept into his shirt.   
  
  
  


* * *

The next morning was a flurry of activity to get on the road as soon as possible. They did not plan on stopping at the inn this trip, the early start should get them to Clyvedon before dinner unless they met some misfortune. 

The road was relatively smooth, and despite the summer heat, Daphne curled into Simon. He took his duty as comforter seriously today, with his arm wrapped around her waist and hand resting on her belly as before. They chatted on and off throughout the journey, and had each brought reading materials. He pursued a book with one hand while she read through the newest copy of _La Belle Assemblée_ , picking out new fashions, catching up on the war news in the former colonies, soaking up the poetry. Hopefully next quarter’s edition would be more entertaining, but the all day trip with no other diversion meant that she paged through the whole thing twice before they were home. 

Home. 

The sense of relief that flooded through her when she and Simon greeted Mrs. Colson was overwhelming. Simon must have noticed, for he asked for dinner to be brought on trays to their room, then escorted her up. 

“How are you feeling, my love?”

“Quite well. And so happy to be back home.” She fell into an embrace, kissing what she could reach of his face. 

“Truly?” he asked wonderingly, his eyes searching hers. 

She nodded. 

“Only, yesterday you were....”

“Disappointed,” she allowed. “But we have all the time in the world, Simon.”

He was so, so solemn as he regarded her now. 

“How are you feeling? About... things.” She needed to know, the myriad of expressions yesterday should be addressed, not buried. 

A knock at the door then and Simon answered the door. Mrs. Colson came in with their tray while Daphne waited for her to retreat again with a polite “Goodnight.”

“I am... still struggling to be the man you need, clearly.”

“Oh, my love.” She touched his cheek. “There are no guarantees. Remember, I did not ask for perfection. It will happen when it happens. And you are my husband, regardless of the children we have.”

“But what if—”

She pressed a finger to his lips. “Do not concern yourself yet. We are working towards the same goal.” And then she kissed him, dinner be damned. Kissed him harder, and harder still, her hands tugging at his shirt, unbuttoning his waistcoat. He started tugging at her dress hooks and she moved his hands away. 

“No, my generous husband. Now I shall make you feel better.”

He gasped, honestly gasped. 

Daphne did not need anyone to tell her how good it felt when he kissed his way up her skirts. She had a suspicion that the feeling would be welcome to him, as well. Given the awed way he looked at her now, the way he crashed his mouth down on hers, the way he tugged her hair out of its updo, her suspicions were confirmed. 

She was going to have to ask him for guidance, though. “The bed?” 

He nodded. “And, if you wouldn’t mind, undressing a little?” She smiled and indulged him, allowing her dress to pool around her feet, peeling off her petticoat and loosening her stays. 

She kissed him until he was panting and tense under her, then devoted some time to the column of his neck, as he often did to her. And then, she moved down, pulled off his trousers and tossed them aside. Daphne refocused her attentions.

To his cock. 

It was perhaps not the most ladylike thing, but she had to share her thoughts with him. “You are magnificent. Proud even.” 

His breath hitched as she admired him, then took him in her hand. 

His hands came to her hair, and she looked at him with a smile, then carefully put her mouth on the tip. He moaned, and her stomach thrilled at the reaction she elicited. 

She braced herself for a strange taste, but it was really only sweat, the smell of him that she had already become familiar with. 

Daphne pulled back and met his eye. “You will have to direct me, Simon.” She repositioned herself between his legs. She curled her legs up behind her and crossed them primly at the ankle, trying to make a fetching portrait for his dark eyes. 

“Your intuition is... good,” he managed, as she leaned forward, taking a little more of him in her mouth this time, allowing her tongue to explore a bit. She found a vein underneath, and he seemed just as pleased with her discovery. 

While her mouth and her right hand did her best to find a rhythm for him, her left hand roamed his thighs, his abdomen. One of his hands slipped out of her hair and grabbed it, squeezing tightly. His moans were louder now, and she was absolutely delighted to do this for him. 

She listened carefully for instructions (it had to be allowed that she was interpreting much as encouragement), and when his breath grew short, he managed a _wait._ She pulled back. Daphne was a quick learner who would not repeat her past mistakes. 

“Simon?”

“I’m going to....”

“Where would you like to?”

He managed to prop himself up on his elbows, his eyes wide and glassy with lust as he considered her.

“May I... help you finish?” she offered. 

He hissed a _yes_ and collapsed back as she concluded her ministrations, faster now that he was desperate and undone underneath her. The taste on the back of her throat was not what she expected, but it was not unpleasant. 

He was panting still as she pulled herself back on top of him. Simon dragged his hands through her hair, pulling her close. Smiling, she nuzzled at his neck again, dropping kisses while he murmured her name, again and again. 

“How are you feeling now, Simon?”

He laughed, cursed, and kissed her. “That was wonderful.”

“I have a good teacher,” she said with a smile. 

He chuckled appreciatively. “You are wonderful.”

She blushed. “I simply thought you might... enjoy it. And I thought perhaps that you needed a reminder that I love you for you, for what we have right now.”

“Sex?”

“Honesty!” She tugged at his ear in a gentle reproach. 

“Well, three cheers for that!” 

She chuckled. There was nothing left to say this night. Her menses would cease in a few days and they would try again. Trying was no real hardship for them. 

He was kissing her hand, her fingertips, the inside of her wrist when her stomach rumbled. Simon laughed. “Well, it seems you were simply hungry.”

She blushed, pulled her hand away, “Simon!”

“Do not deny it!” 

“I shall deny it.” She pushed herself up out of their bed and brought a tray back for them to share. 

“Oh my love, I hope you will not deny pleasure in the future.” He was teasing her, it was true, but his face looked so open, so questioning. 

She leaned forward to kiss him. “No, Simon. Negotiate, but never deny.”

He looked pleased enough with her answer. “So be it. But you should know, I often get hungry as well.”

Daphne could not help blushing again. He gently pinched the apple of her cheek to make her blush more; she brushed his hand away and lifted the cover off their tray. 

She was not with child, but she would not trade this moment with Simon. It was imperfect, and that is what made it perfect after all. 


End file.
